Was it a chance that made her pause
  One moment at the opened door,
  Pale where she stood so flushed before
As one a spirit overawes:--
Or might it rather be because
She felt the grave was at our feet,
And felt that we should no more meet
  Upon its hither side no more?

Was it a chance that made her turn
  Once toward the window passing by,
  One moment with a shrinking eye
Wherein her spirit seemed to yearn:--
Or did her soul then first discern
How long and rough the pathway is
That leads us home from vanities,
  And how it will be good to die?

There was a hill she had to pass;
  And while I watched her up the hill
  She stooped one moment hurrying still,
But left a rose upon the grass:
Was it mere idleness:--or was
Herself with her own self at strife
Till while she chose the better life
  She felt this life has power to ****?

Perhaps she did it carelessly,
  Perhaps it was an idle thought;
  Or else it was the grace unbought,
A pledge to all eternity:
I know not yet how this may be;
But I shall know when face to face
In Paradise we find a place
  And love with love that endeth not.